


Dollface

by fortunata13



Category: Legend of the Seeker
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-01
Updated: 2014-04-01
Packaged: 2018-01-17 20:53:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1402096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fortunata13/pseuds/fortunata13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This here is a mobster fic inspired by films from the 1930's and 40's. It's a bit of a departure from how the characters are usually portrayed but I think it's a good read. If you have half as much fun reading it as I did writing it, your fun quota will be met for the day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dollface

**Author's Note:**

> I use a lot of terminology from the era so I'll clarify a few of them: a Chicago overcoat is 1930's mobster-speak for a coffin, a flivver is slang for car, and butter-and-egg-man is slang for the money man. There are probably a few others. Feel free to message me if you're confused by any other terms.

I was on a job, easy-peasy, find the dame and take her back to her old man, plain and simple. Yeah, well, not so simple. I found her, but man, one look at her and I wanted to take her back, all right –– back to my place.

She was waitressing at a joint on the outskirts of town. It was one of those snazzy new diners with soda fountains –– the type they have in all the big cities, only smaller. The booths were pink and white vinyl –– the kind that sticks to your ass on a hot summer day –– with that sparkly junk that makes it look all shiny. I spotted her the moment I walked in the door. A dame like that slinging hash stood out like a cat at a dog show –– I probably did, too. Tall, lean, dark-haired, and gorgeous, that’s what I was told, and she fit the bill to a tee. I cased the joint for a minute, trying to figure out what tables she was working, but I didn’t have to; she walked right up to me with a million-dollar smile and pointed me to the corner booth by the jukebox. She wore the same uniform as the rest of the waitresses –– a paneled pink and white skirt, a white short-sleeve button-down blouse, and one of those little hats –– or whatever you call ’em –– that just kinda sits on your head but doesn’t really serve any sort of purpose.

I sat down with my back to the wall so that I could keep an eye on the locals. You never know. She glanced at me a couple of times as if we both knew that neither of us belonged here. After a few minutes, she walked back to my table. I could hardly take my eyes off those gorgeous gams.

“Are you ready to order?” She leaned forward a little –– just enough for me to catch a glimpse of her rack. Nice, really nice. She was holding a pen in one hand and one of those little pads in the other.

‘What’s good?’ I asked. She cleared her throat and shot me a knowing look that pretty much said my eyes are up here; I played dumb.

“It depends on what you’re in the mood for,” she said. “Breast perhaps? We have chicken, and turkey.” I smirked and shook my head. She smirked right back at me and crossed her arms. This dame was something. She had plenty of moxie, that’s for sure.

‘I’ll have a vanilla malt and a roast beef sandwich, mustard, no onions –– in case I decide to kiss someone later.’

She let out a little chuckle. “Good luck with that,” she said, and headed back to the kitchen.

‘Aw, you’re breaking my heart.’ She looked back at me over her shoulder and shrugged. She liked me, I could tell.

I kept an eye on her while I was eating. Her and a couple of the other waitresses were kind of huddled together giggling. They kept glancing back at me like little kids do when they have a crush on you but they don’t wanna tell you. When she noticed I’d finished eating, she walked back to my table. ‘Girl talk?’ I asked her. She tried not to smile but one of the corners of her mouth jumped up.

“Women talk,” she said.

‘Okay then, women talk. I like women –– talk, that is.’

“I’m sure you talk to lots of women.” She sighed, acting all put-upon. “Would you like anything else?”

‘Something warm and sweet. Just a taste though, wouldn’t wanna get myself into trouble.’

“What kind of trouble? Women trouble?” she tipped her head and waited for an answer but I just laughed.

‘You’re really something,’ I said. She smiled that million-dollar smile and walked back to the counter, swaying her hips more than she had to.

A few minutes later, she came back with a slice of hot cherry pie with a heap of whipped cream on it. “I’ll bring you the check,” she said.

‘Take your time,’ I said, ‘I’m in no hurry.’

When she came back with the check I asked her if she knew of a place where I could get a room for a couple of nights. She told me there was a guest house a couple of miles up the road, but I had to hurry because the front desk closed at nine.

‘Thanks.’ I left her a hefty tip and walked outside. Instead of getting in my car, I leaned against the windowpane outside the diner for a while and looked up at the stars –– freezing my ass off in the process. Here was this gorgeous dame whose old man was probably a world class asshole who treated her like shit, and it was my job to drag her back to him.

I went back every day for a week. “You really like our roast beef sandwiches,” she said.

‘The view ain’t bad either.’ Her cheeks got all pinked up; it was a good look on her that I wouldn’t mind seeing again and again. For that whole week, I spent my nights staring up at the ceiling, sucking on giggle juice, waiting for the sun to come up so I could see her again.

“Don’t tell me, roast beef sandwich, mustard, no onions, and a vanilla malt.”

I laughed; she had moxie, all right. ‘That’s right, dollface. When I like something, I stick with it.’

She started to walk back to the counter but then she did a 180 and came back to my table. “So when are you going to ask me out? A girl can’t wait forever, you know.”

My mouth hung open for a couple of seconds like I was catching flies. She musta thought I was a real genius, staring up at her like that. ‘Say, dollface, what’s about I take you to the picture show tonight?’

“That would be lovely, but my name isn’t dollface, it’s Kay. Pick me up after my shift. It would also be nice if you told me your name.”

‘Yeah, it would,’ I said. ‘My name is Cara.’ I shoulda made tracks right then and there but I couldn’t; those baby blue blinkers of hers had me in a vise grip. I was fairly sure I’d end up at the bottom of a river, wearing a pair of cement galoshes if the boss found out, but there was no going back. I had it bad.

Before I left the guest house to pick her up, I checked in with the butter-and-egg man. ‘I got squat, boss. No, I’ll get it done. I just need more time, that’s all. Yeah, sure. You shoulda put me on this job from the get-go. Those goons you sent out probably spooked her. Yeah, I still got plenty of cabbage. You gotta trust me, boss. Have I ever let you down? Easy-peasy, boss, just relax, I’ll find her.’

When she walked out of the diner, I was leaning against the car door waiting for her; it was the first time I’d seen her in civilian clothes. She had a pretty blue dress on that went down just below her knees –– showing off those perfect pins –– and her hair was loose. Man, I wanted to bury my fingers in those thick dark curls. The only jewelry she wore was a pearl necklace and matching earrings. This was one classy dame. She smiled and kissed me on the cheek. “You look nice,” she said. I walked around to the passenger’s seat and opened the door for her.

‘You look like a million bucks,’ I said to her. And it was true; she was a world class looker, especially out of that uniform. I been with lots of broads but this one was different, this one was what you would call a lady.

On the drive to the city, we mostly talked about the pictures. She knew all about the pictures, even more than I did. Howard Hawks, that was her guy. “He’s a genius,” she said. I was happy as hell when we got to the theater. Right there on the marquee, Bringing Up Baby, starring Cary Grant and Katherine Hepburn, and you guessed it, directed by Howard Hawks. That bit put a big grin on her face.

The picture had us in stitches –– funniest picture I’d ever watched. This Hawks guy knew what he was doing, that’s for sure. When the lovey-dovey part came around, I put my arm around her shoulders, and after a few seconds she snuggled closer. Man, I had it bad for this dame.

On the ride back, we were still laughing our asses off, that’s how funny the picture was. I drove real slow just because I didn’t want the night to end. ‘I’ll drive you home,’ I said to her, ‘I’ll pick you up in the morning.’ She thought about it but I could tell it spooked her. It made sense; a dame on the lamb ain’t exactly dying for people to know where she lives.

“No,” she said, “but it’s very sweet of you to offer.”

When we got back to the diner, I opened the door for her and walked her to her car. ‘We should do this again, maybe,’ I said to her. ‘I noticed a dance hall in town.’

She got a big smile of her face. “You dance?”

‘Sure I do. What do I look like, some dead hoofer.’

She laughed like crazy when I said that but then she got all serious. “No, you look like a beautiful woman whom I’d like to get to know better.” She reached up and touched my lips with the tips of her fingers. For about an hour after she drove off I was flying high. After that, I felt like a world class heel.

What the fuck was I doing, getting mixed up with this dame? Probably getting us both killed, that’s what. But I still went back every day. I hadn’t even gotten a taste, but I was already hooked. A couple of days later, I took her to the dance hall. The clarinet player was a regular Benny Goodman, but I’ll tell you what, when the band started playing “Sing, Sing, Sing”, I was the Queen of Swing. I pulled her up from her chair and spun her around like a top. It caught her off guard, but it only took her a second to catch on. We went from the Lindy Hop, to the West Coast Swing, to the Hammerlock, and ended it with the Sweetheart move. We cleared the dance floor, the two of us. The crowd gave us a standing ovation. When she caught her breath, she planted a big wet one on my cheek, right there in front of everybody. I don’t think she even realized she did it until everybody started clapping again. We were both panting, and her face was red as a tomato. This dame was something, all right.

‘You’re an ace dancer,’ I said to her when we got in the car.

“No, you’re an ace dancer, I just had a fabulous partner. Where did you learn how to dance like that?”

‘When I was a kid, there was Arthur Murray joint down the street. I’d stand outside looking in trying to memorize all the steps. Then I’d run home and practice in front of the mirror. My ma couldn’t afford to pay for lessons so I made do. I met Fred Astaire once. He was walking out of rehearsal and saw me dancing along with the rest of the dancers –– except I was on the wrong side of the glass. ‘“Keep at it, kid,”’ he said to me, ‘“you’re going places.”’ Then he handed me a five-spot. That was the most cabbage I’d ever seen in my life. But I’ll tell you what, that five-spot is in my pocket to this day. Even if I hadn’t had a hot meal in a month, I held on to that five-spot.’

“Stop the car,” she said, and I did. For a second I thought maybe I’d mucked things up. Boy, was I wrong. She took hold of my collar, pulled me in, and kissed me –– right on the smacker this time. Before we knew it we were steaming up the windows. I was slap-happy but I had to put my foot on the brake. This dame, she was special. The jig was up, I had to come clean, even if it meant losing her for good.

What I was about to do was probably gonna get me killed but I’d done too much fucked up shit in my life already. Letting this dame who didn’t do nothing to nobody take a beating from some sick fuck who probably thought he owned her, like a piece of furniture or some shit, that was too much –– even for a git like me.

The next night, I drove around the back of the diner and waited until closing time. When she got in her car, I followed her home. She was staying in a cabin deep in the woods; I’m no coward, but I woulda been scared shitless to live in that cave. Me versus bear ain’t the type of fight I’m used to. After taking a couple of deep breaths –– and a swig from the flask I kept in my pocket –– I walked up to the door and knocked. She peered through the window and after what felt like a long time, I heard a key turn in the lock. My heart was pounding like crazy, not because I was scared or anything, but because I was about to do something I hadn’t done since I was nine years old and hooked up with this outfit: the right thing.

“Cara, why are you here?” she asked in a not-so-friendly tone –– pointing a double barrel shotgun at the center of my chest. I put up my arms and took a step back. “I suggest you come up with one good reason why I shouldn’t pull this trigger.” For a gorgeous dame, she sure as hell had a menacing side.

‘Look, I –– fuck. You can totally shoot me –– trust me, I deserve it. But let me do one good thing in my life first.’ She gave me a look that made me feel like I was completely naked, like she was looking through to my bones –– no, to my soul. She could see it, the remorse that I tried so hard to hide, she could see it.

“Go on,” she said, letting the barrel drop a little and relaxing her trigger finger, “but this better be good.”

I took a deep breath, not because I was nervous –– I didn’t give a rat’s ass at that point –– I did it because I was ashamed to tell her who I really was, what I was. ‘I work for Rahl. He sent me here to take you back to your old man. I don’t want any part of it. There’s fifty g’s in the trunk of my flivver; take it, and take my bean shooter, too. I’m done with all of this, I’m just fucking done. It’s one thing to shake down some git for protection money but this, this is too fucking much for me. Now you can shoot me.’ I took a long stride so that the barrel was pressed to the center of my chest. ‘Go ahead, do it. You’d be doing me a favor.’

She looked down and shook her head. “Come in. You’ll catch your death if you don’t.” I don’t know why, but I did it, I followed her into the cabin without saying a word. “Sit, please.” She poured us both a drink and then she sat down and just stared at me like she was taking in details of a painting, like I was something that had to be studied. No, not studied, understood. “So all of this was just a scheme to drag me back to that monster, taking me to the picture show, the dancing, making me fall in love with you, it was all some sick plan to take me back to him.”

‘No, I swear it. I made you that very first day at the diner. I coulda nabbed you right then and there but I didn’t, I just couldn’t, not to you or to any other dame. I just couldn’t. Then I got to know you. You’re aces, Kay. A girl like you is worth a million of me. I knew if I came clean I’d lose you, but if anything were to happen to you…’ by then I was blubbering like a two-year-old.

“How did you get here?”

‘I parked behind the diner, and when you ––’

She shook her head. “No, I mean how did you get here, to this place in your life?” She moved closer to me, like I was about to say something monumental, but I wasn’t. Nothing about my story was unique or special. Still, since she was nice enough to not blow a hole in my chest, I figured I should say something.

I thought about it for a few minutes, and outta nowhere, the words just poured out. ‘I was nine. It was the height of the Depression, and like everyone else –– except the bankers –– we were broker than the Ten Commandments. My father went west in the hopes of finding work, but he died before he could find his fortune. My ma married some asshole –– probably a lot like your old man –– who beat the shit out of me –– and my ma –– every day.

‘Then one day, I was in line at a soup kitchen, and a guy, maybe twenty-five-years old, wearing a fancy suit, tossed me a nickel. I must have been a sorry sight because he said to me, “Go to the picture show, it’ll make ya feel better.”

‘Thanks, mister, I said, and started to run off but he grabbed me by the scruff of my neck and told me not to thank him, that everything in this world comes at a price. It didn’t happen all at once but before I knew it, that son of a bitch owned me. I was a good kid, but I wanted a better life –– for me and my ma. It didn’t take long for him to figure out what to do with me. I had a bonafide knack for stealing, and picking pockets –– a natural born grifter, he used to call me. By the time I was thirteen, I was already at clip joints, sitting on the lap of some mark, feeling his dong getting hard. So yeah, that’s my story. Now go ahead and shoot me. I was bound to end up in a Chicago overcoat before hitting the quarter-century mark, anyway.’

“I’m not going to shoot you,” she said. “If I did he’d just send another one of his goons after me. Darken’ll never let me go.”

‘Darken? Darken is your old man?’ That bit of news almost knocked me over. He never told me it was his wife I was looking for –– I never even knew he had a wife. ‘I figured it was the wife of some random baddy he was having me chase down. But how, why, I –– I don’t get it.’

“How did I end up married to Darken? Does it matter?” she asked.

‘No, the why of shit like this doesn’t amount to a hill of beans if you ask me…but, I’ve been to his house a thousand times. How did I not know he had a wife?’

“Let’s just say it’s not a traditional marriage. I am his prisoner, not his wife. Every time I get away from him, he drags me back, and makes my life pure hell for doing it.”

‘Not this time, Kay. This time you got me. I ain’t gonna let that bastard lay a hand on you. We’ll drive out west, start a new life, just the two of us. I got a pal, he told me about a place in South America, Bowlibia, I think he called it. We can go there.’

She let out a little chuckle and put her hand on my cheek. “Bolivia,” she said, “but I can’t ask you to give up your whole life for me.”

‘You ain’t asking, doll, I’m offering.’ Then I got all bold and planted one on her. ‘I’m nuts about you, Kay. Toss a few things into a bag. I got plenty of cabbage, more than enough to get us to Bowlivia or whatever it’s called. We can leave right now.’

She stared at me for a few seconds, like she was trying’na make up her mind. Then she threw her arms around me. “Yes,” she said to me, “the answer is yes.”

I grabbed her bag and we headed for the door. That’s when we saw the headlights. There musta been at least a half dozen flivvers outside. ‘The back door,’ I said to her.

She kissed me on the cheek, and shook her head. “There isn’t one,” she said.

I went for the window but by then they’d knocked down the door –– Darken and at least ten of his goons –– all of ’em with Chicago Typewriters. Sure, I had my bean shooter and Kay had her shotgun but we didn’t stand a chance in hell. “Kill ’em both,” he said. I took at least ten rounds trying to protect her; I woulda taken a thousand rounds for this dame.

‘Noooooooooo!’ I screamed, when I saw the blood pouring out of her right temple. ‘Kayyyyyyyyyy!’

***

“Cara, wake up, love. It’s just a bad dream. I’m here, love, I’m right here.”

I was shaking like a leaf. ‘That was some dream,’ I said to my wife.

“Was I in it?” she asked, with a big grin on her face.

‘Of course you were. You’re my dream girl, dollface.’

That cracked her up. “‘Dollface’? Did you just call me ‘dollface’? Could you be any cuter?” She laughed for three full minutes.

Then I gave her about a thousand kisses, and stayed in bed holding her for over an hour. ‘I’ve been thinking, that swing dance class you’ve been wanting us to take, why don’t you sign us up?’

“You mean it? You didn’t seem very interested the ten thousand times I’ve asked you.”

‘Yeah, well, I’ve evolved. Oh, and about that vacation we’ve been talking about, what are your thoughts on Bolivia?’

She wrinkled her nose and stared at me. “Bolivia? Like Butch and Sundance?”

‘Exactly like Butch and Sundance.’

She turned me around and straddled me. “Okay, but only if I get to be Butch, for a change.”

‘Anything you want, dollface.’


End file.
